Chapter 4

Given that many League champions have gained some form of celebrity and notoriety through their competitions, it's no surprise that a lot of people think we spend most of our time between matches, well, training for matches. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Most champions have pastimes or hobbies that rival their League competitions, whether violent or otherwise, but some can be simply bizarre. Jax, the Grandmaster At Arms, is a known barfly, prone to showing up at pubs and drinking just about anyone under the table. Pantheon, the Artisan of War, has been known to dabble in bakery, as has a certain fallen angel. And Professor Cecil B. Heimerdinger, a revered inventor, founder of the Yordle Academy of Science and Progress, and League champion, also works in a mechanic shop customizing cars and hextech devices in his off-time. Given that the Academy was currently closed, I had a good chance of finding him there.

I parked the bike in the parking lot of a warehouse-sized shop, mostly brick and mortar but with signs of steel reinforcement here and there to keep the place from falling apart due to excessively awesome customizations made for some crazier customers. Next to the several garage doors was a smaller office doorway, with a large sign over it that read "Piltover Customs – For All Your Hextech Needs". One of the garage doors was open, and I revved the bike's engine as I parked it nearby the door. Inside I saw a strange-looking vehicle, its chassis looking like a construction rig, all blocky assembly and function over form. Unlike normal construction trucks, however, the wheels on this one were gigantic, larger than a man, and seemed designed exclusively to be huge. While crazy modifications were standard fare for the place, this one was new to me. I spotted a fluffy afro wobbling in one of the windows of the car and raised one hand to my mouth to amplify my voice. "RAISE 'EM, PROFESSOR!"

I heard a squeak of surprise- he must have been too wrapped up in his work to hear my bike- and a high-pitched voice responded "W-What!?" Professor Heimerdinger stuck his head out of the window and glared down at me before realization dawned on his face. "I've told you blasted adolescents, it's HeimerDINGER, not- o-oh, it's you, Vi! Salutations!" The yordle hopped out of the window despite it being ten or so feet off the ground, and before he could be in any sort of danger a robotic arm popped out of his hair, a small rocket at its end sputtering to life and slowing his descent until he touched down gracefully. "What brings you here?"

Heimerdinger looked like someone had put the brain of a genius scientist into the body of an afroed squirrel- he was average-sized for a yordle, but his hair gave him an extra six inches on most yordles, the yellow locks spiraling off of his head in a way that almost made it look like a fuzzy extension of his brain. His eyes were obscured by a pair of red-rimmed goggles, and his mouth was obscured by a fuzzy white mustache, the tips stained with black grease. He wore a dark labcoat, covered with more grease stains, and held a large red wrench in one hand, almost as large as his arm. "Additionally," he mentioned as I got off the bike, "Who is your acquaintance?"

I looked down at the passenger on my bike with a bit of a smile. Gnar had been comfortably asleep for most of the ride- he seemed to have adapted to the bike rather quickly- but when things slowed down he had perked back up, and once the bike stopped he hopped off the machine to greet the strange, afroed newcomer in his life. "Shooga wabo!" Gnar shouted as he scampered up to the yordle in greeting. Heimerdinger took a noticeable step away, probably because of the bone boomerang, but I followed and put a hand on Gnar's head to keep him from running off. "To answer both questions, this is Gnar- at least, that's what we guessed his name was. He doesn't exactly speak our language."

"And you were hoping I might be able to determine his origins," Heimerdinger supplied, "Or at the minimum, deduce his particular mental state."

"Something like that," I confirmed shortly. "I found him over in the Academic district. He doesn't act like a yordle, more like an animal. I've talked to a few people, and our best guess is that there's either tribal yordles around that we don't know about or he's older than he looks."

Heimerdinger squinted, which I was only aware of because of the way his bushy eyebrows narrowed, pressing harder against his goggles. Gnar seemed oblivious to his scrutiny, and his head twisted and turned as his large, dark eyes bounced around the shop, his legs idly rocking with energy. "This sort of analysis would be greatly expedited if I had access to my lab equipment," he said as if mentioning it would make the tools simply appear, "But no matter, I should be able to cobble together something serviceable with the tools around here. Perhaps I might be able to clear some of the obfuscation surrounding his nature. Please follow me," he said as he swiveled around and headed towards a door at the back of the garage, his hair wobbling in an amusing fashion out of sync with the movement of his head. I pushed gently at Gnar's head, and when he noticed the wobbling hair his mouth opened in a wide grin and he chased after Heimerdinger, playfully cooing his excitement.

The back room looked like equal parts chop shop and armory. Like my workshop, it was mostly utilitarian concrete and steel foundations, but the walls and floor were coated with a layer of mechanical gadgets, tools and parts, with carefully-cleared walkways separating each project. Heimerdinger led us to a large clear space in the middle of the room, inhabited only be a massive silver golem, whose legs had been replaced with white-walled wheels and large exhaust pipes jutting out of his back. At the sound of one of Gnar's squeals the golem turned around, casting its robotic gaze on Heimerdinger and me in turn. "GREETINGS, PROFESSOR," the robot droned with an exceptionally loud voice, "AND GREETINGS, OFFICER VI. IF YOU POSSESS A WARRANT YOU WILL FIND THAT OUR SPECIFICATIONS ARE UP TO CODE-"

"Unofficial business, Blitzcrank," I interrupted, my hand lazily waving away his words, "It's good to see you."

"I UNDERSTAND," Blitzcrank the golem replied, a puff of steam escaping one of the exhaust vents. "HAVE YOU RETURNED FOR A REMATCH?"

My blood momentarily boiled- Blitzcrank, for all of his robotic strength, held the current World Heavyweight boxing title. A title I rightfully deserved. I'd fought him once, but damnit if the golem hadn't earned his spot at the top. I hadn't been ready for him. But now wasn't the time for rivalries. I'd have to punch his lights out later. "Not this time," I said, trying to brush off the challenge like it wasn't the very large deal that it certainly was. "Business with the 'dinger." I saw Heimerdinger's head spin in my direction momentarily- he hated being called that- but he ignored us and went back to fiddling through boxes for various techmaturgical doohickeys. "Where's Corki?" I asked, referring to the other owner of the shop, another yordle and League champion.

"AS PROFESSOR HEIMERDINGER WAS UNABLE TO ENTER THE ACADEMY TODAY," Blitzcrank blared mechanically, "HE CHOSE TO RELIEVE CORKI FOR THE DAY AND TAKE UP RESIDENCE WITHIN THE SHOP. CORKI HAS RETURNED HOME FOR THE DAY, AND HAS REQUESTED HE BE LEFT ALONE TO WAX HIS MUSTACHE IN PRIVACY."

"Don't think I needed that last part," I commented, trying not to laugh at the idea of the little yordle waxing a handlebar mustache almost as large as himself. "But thanks."

"I WILL LEAVE YOU TO YOUR BUSINESS," the golem boomed as his wheels spun him in a circle. "HAVE A SUFFICIENTLY ENJOYABLE DAY, FLESHBAG."

I raised an eyebrow at the comment as the golem wheeled out, but the strangeness of the farewell wasn't out of the ordinary. Blitzcrank was another League champion, and also one of the only machines to achieve true sentience, which made him something else entirely. That having been said he was far from perfect and struggled to grasp human mannerisms and customs, as his attempts to create a dating service had proven some time ago. I sighed and turned back to Heimerdinger, and as I did my raised eyebrow found its couple on the other side of my face thanks to my sudden surprise. "Uh, Heimy?" I asked slowly, "What the hell is that?"

Heimerdinger looked up at me from a control panel he was hunched over, a control panel attached to a console easily twice his size, reaching my forehead in height. What was surprising about it wasn't its size, it's that it didn't exist a minute ago. I could see signs of construction here and there, but for the most part the machine seemed to have been willed into existence, he'd made it so fast. I almost thought a saw a glimmer of pride through his goggles, and he took a moment to adjust them with a harrumph of indignation. "If you had not been conversing with the steam golem, perhaps you would have listened to my concise and elucidating explanation," he protested.

"Sorry, sorry," I said, my hands held in an appeasing gesture. "Give me the short version?"

He sighed and gestured to the machine with his wrench. "It's a functional replica of one of my supercomputers housed within the Academy," he explained, punching in a few keys as he spoke. He reached into a pocket and produced a tape measure, which he extended and pressed against the side of Gnar's head. Gnar protested with a soft squeal but stayed put. "By designing it to feed off of the same techmaturgic signature, I should be able to approximate a live connection to the full device, granting me limited access to the Academy database. We have some historic records available from the Libraries, which makes it simple to take measurements of this Gnar fellow and search within the system for correlations and possible geological or chronological origins!"

I sighed. I caught… some of that. I knew machines fairly well, but my knowledge was closer to the "vehicle, weapon and punching implement" specializations than any sort of techmaturgic approximation whoza-whatsits. "Uh, neat," I said, trying to pretend like I had understood him.

Heimerdinger sighed, clearly aware of how lost I was. "I can use this to gain information on this fellow," he explained as he turned to enter information into the machine. Gnar, clearly intrigued by the fuzzy person next to him with the wavy hair, stepped a bit closer and prodded at his hair with the boomerang. A robotic arm, the same one that had helped him jump out of the truck, popped out of his hair and snatched the boomerang away. "Please do not do that," Heimerdinger said as Gnar responded with a yelp of equal parts surprise and 'hey, gimme that' indignation. The arm dropped the boomerang on the floor and Gnar scooped it up, which served to be a sufficient distraction for Heimerdinger to jab the smaller yordle with a thin needle, drawing a small bit of blood into the reservoir. The yordle yelped again, this time in pain, and hopped away from Heimerdinger, who paid him no mind.

"Now then," he said with an air of seriousness, "While the hemoglobin sample is analyzed and compared with samples kept in the Academy's database, let's discuss the yordle and his important mannerisms and traits. Have you observed his eating habits?"

I grinned. "Y'ever seen Ziggs go after a cupcake?"

Heimerdinger glowered. "So you're implying he feeds like a wild animal, with no signs of sanitation or etiquette."

I nodded. "Precisely."

The professor produced a small clipboard and scribbled a few notes down. "I see. Diet?"

I scratched one arm. "Well, I fed him a steak sandwich and he's not dead yet. So… grains, meat, veggies?"

"Omnivorous," Heimerdinger supplied, and I snapped my fingers.

"Yeah," I confirmed, "That thing."

"Right," he mumbled while scribbling some more notes. "Any observed predators? Prey? Signs of a place in a hierarchy?"

"I don't think he liked my bike," I supplied, shrugging.

"Interesting, perhaps signs of a lack of acclimation to hextech and machinery," he responded, "I have a theory, but let's analyze the results of the test before we come to any definite conclusions to assure the highest possible percentile of accuracy. With that out of the way, let's discuss the nature and extent of your injuries."

I blinked, and it made part of my face throb. "Huh?"

He set the clipboard down on the machine, whose screen was filling with data faster than it could be read. "Your orbicularis oculi muscles around your left eye have been bruised and show signs of periorbital hematoma."

"…Huh?"

"You're getting a black eye," he repeated, as if talking to a child.

I touched a hand to my face again. "I could really use a mirror…" The robotic arm in Heimerdinger's hair popped out, producing a small handheld mirror. I raised an eyebrow and mumbled "I'm not even going to ask where you got that" before taking it from the arm and inspecting my face. I looked like a wreck- the muscle under and around my left eye was purpling pretty badly, and there was a dark red line of dried blood where I had cut the right side of my forehead on the wall of the alley. I could see signs of a busted lip as well. "Well, that's not as bad as I thought."

"The sheriff will undoubtedly question you as to the cause of the injuries," he commented. "I would hope you don't mention you were here in the process."

I blinked and looked down at him. "Whyzat?"

"Because I don't want to get caught in the crossfire," he stated plainly. "I have witnessed her behavior when made furious. It was terrifying, to say the least."

I gulped down a nervous breath. Heimerdinger had a point- if Caitlyn found out, she'd be pissed. Problem was, I couldn't exactly lie to her. Whether someone told her or not, she'd investigate and find out. Lying to her was just borrowing a shovel so I could dig my own grave. Crap.

Before I could dwell too much on the problem ahead of me, the machine the yordle had built beeped twice. Heimerdinger's expression grew warmer and he bounced over to the machine. "Excellent! The sample has been analyzed!" I walked over to look and quickly realized I couldn't make hide nor hair of the results. The professor, already aware of my confusion, pointed out a structure of linked letters on the screen. "This is the structure of this Gnar's blood. As you can plainly see, the hemoglobin is especially saturated, taking up a larger portion of his blood cell makeup and allowing the passage of more oxygen into the system. It's not common among yordles, considering that our circulatory systems have less overall distance to travel, but would allow for improved blood circulation in situations where the system has been compromised."

I tried to find a facial expression that accurately conveyed my confusion, but Heimerdinger didn't seem to notice. With a few pushes of a button, he brought up a different screen, this one showing a series of X-like shapes, each numbered just below it. "Here we have a readout of his genetic structure, or a rough estimate from the blood sample. A few notable genes are three, twelve, and fifteen," he said with a pointing finger directed at each one in turn, "And most notably, gene twenty. Given the shape of this gene is markedly different from our standard yordle genome-" he tapped a button and a near-duplicate set of whatever he was talking about popped up underneath the ones from before. The two sets looked almost identical, with the exclusion of the ones he had pointed out. Number twenty, like he said, looked wildly different, almost unrecognizable.

"I see that they're different," I said, trying my hardest to sound smart, "But… what?"

Heimerdinger's 'how are you not getting this' sigh was getting seriously annoying. "I apologize, I did not realize you hadn't read Professor Firkledink's journal on yordle genome theory. We believe this twentieth gene is responsible for development in the limbic system, the parts of the brain responsible for emotional management. It's possible that your friend has an underdeveloped brain, or, judging by this readout, a mutation entirely separate from the standard yordle evolutionary line."

"Evolutionary line?" I asked.

"Correct," he said, even though I had asked a question, not answered it. "According to the dating algorithms we use at the Academy to identify fossils brought in by Ezreal and his ilk, this yordle's blood sample is… approximately four years old. However, pieces of the boomerang fashioned from animal bone date back to a species that went extinct over a thousand years ago, with a margin for error of course." He looked over at Gnar, who was busy poking at the hubcaps on a car. "It appears that… Gnar, you said? That Gnar is a living prehistoric yordle."

I sighed. It was one thing to have the funny idea that you were walking around with a caveman, it was another entirely to actually be walking around with a friggin' caveman…yordle…thing. Awesome. Explaining this all to Caitlyn would be fun. "Fantastic," I said with a sigh, stepping away from the machine as I turned my attention to Gnar, who had his boomerang wedged into the hubcap at this point and was trying to pry it off. "And I assume you can't take care of him for me? We can't really keep him at home forever."

"Heavens no," Heimerdinger said, still looking at his monitor. "While I would adore the opportunity to study him more deeply, that would require surgery or a dissection, neither of which I could readily perform in the midst of hot rods and steam golems." He heard the snap of the hubcap falling off and whirled around with surprise. "Hey! Stop that!"

I smiled a bit, then walked over to Gnar and picked him up. With the boomerang removed the hubcap fell off of its wheel, rattling as it wobbled to stillness on the floor. Heimerdinger rushed over and had it back in place in a matter of seconds, then looked up at me and the prehistoric yordle in my hands and huffed indignantly, a gesture that made his mustache wiggle in a hilariously cute fashion. "Bring him by when the Academy opens, and we may be able to find a place for him. If that is the end of your need for me, I have important work to get back to."

I headed for the door, and the professor followed. "What, that huge truck in the front?"

His eyes did that gleam again. "Exactly! I call it a mega truck!"

I shrugged. "I dunno, could sound cooler. Why not a monster truck?"

He shot me a quizzical look. "Why on Runeterra would I call it that?"

"It's monstrously big?" I supplied.

Heimerdinger mumbled something under his breath. "You may be on to something there."

"Of course," I said as I plopped Gnar down on the bike and stretched one leg over to the opposite side. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's punching. If there's another, it's awesome names for stuff."

"Quite," he responded dismissively, "Farewell then, Vi."

"Seeya, Heimy," I said jokingly as the bike roared to life and I peeled off into the fading daylight.

By the time I got home, night had fallen on the city. Gnar seemed content to sit on the back seat and let the vibrations of the bike lull him to sleep, and given that he wasn't trying to leap off and sniff something when he was asleep, I didn't mind either. I stopped at the gate to the house and pressed the intercom button. "Yo, it's Vi," I said into the microphone, and after a moment a voice crackled to life.

"About time you made it home," Caitlyn responded through the intercom, "How is our little friend at the Academy?"

"Uh, it's complicated," I said nervously. "I'll tell you when I get in." There was no response, but the door clicked open and I got in and parked the bike. My mind raced as I walked to the front door. I had to say something in order to distract her, to take her attention off of my injuries. I'd thought about stories I could tell on the way home, but nothing stuck. She'd find out one way or another, of that I was certain. The least I could do would be to tell her upfront and take the trouble now instead of letting it fester. But, if I could bombard her with info about Gnar's true nature and get her thinking about that, there was a possibility she'd let the injury slide as "just another Vi thing." It had happened before, it was worth a shot.

I got to the front door and saw Caitlyn there, waiting for me. She immediately noticed Gnar and shot me a look that said I had some explaining to do. However, when she shot me the look, she noticed my face, and her curiosity visibly redoubled. "Heya Cait," I said when she was in earshot, still walking towards the door. "So the Academy was closed, but I managed to run into Heimerdinger over at Piltover Customs, and-"

Caitlyn raised a hand, a simple gesture of pause, but the absolute authority with which she did it made the words catch in my mouth. "You're bruised up," she said shortly. "Tell me what happened."

"Cait, it's not a big deal," I started, but the look in her eyes said she wanted to know anyways. I sighed in defeat and nodded. "Let's go inside. I'll tell you." Guilt and defeat mixed in my head until I couldn't tell the difference anymore. I couldn't lie to her, I couldn't hide it from her and I couldn't try to divert her attention.

This night was about to get a whole lot worse.